


Saving Fish From Drowning

by DylanOhbrien



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: (not germano), All other ships except for romano/germany are only hinted, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Denial of Feelings, Developing Relationship, Fluff, Holidays, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parties, Rewrite, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-04
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-09 02:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12267309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DylanOhbrien/pseuds/DylanOhbrien
Summary: Lovino falls first. Ludwig, however, is not far behind. Despite the twists, turns, and vehement denial, they still manage to find their way towards each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A tentative rewrite of a story from 2012. Rewrite is cross posted on Fanfiction.net, as that is where it originated from.

"I hid my deepest feelings so well I forgot where I placed them."

— Amy Tan, _Saving Fish From Drowning_

* * *

  **Prologue**

 **Date** : Unknown  
 **Time** : Unknown

He supposes that something like this has been long overdue, and a part of him ― a very large part of him ― almost thinks that this is some sort of karma for the way he tends to treat some people, Ludwig in particular. He’s a bit of a romantic by nature, his heart constantly betraying him without hesitation, so this isn’t exactly surprising so much as it is infuriating and embarrassing. And while the romantic and idiotic part of him had come to accept it as a now undeniable fact, another part still fights tooth and nail to vehemently deny the truth.

Still, Lovino can only deny the symptoms for so long. Sweaty palms, a dry mouth, and cheeks so flushed they burn can only be excused a handful of times. What’s worse is that these were symptoms that only cropped up in _his_ presence, so there was really no use is pretending that he didn’t know the cause. Cheeks that were once red with fury instead turned red from bashfulness; fists that used to be clenched so tight they turned white became lax and twitchy; tongue tied frustration became tongue tied nervousness.

Despite this he had never once denied the fact that the man was pleasing to the eye. He is not, after all, blind. But the huge road block that was their conflicting personalities and different friendships and relationships had been more than enough to stop the Italian from crossing the very fine line between simple acknowledgement and genuine interest. The block has not withstood the test of time, though. As months bled into years, it had been chipped away into virtually nothing; and when the feelings started to come slipping out, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

The dam had burst, and Lovino suddenly finds himself nursing romantic feelings for Ludwig Beilschmidt. Which is just perfect.

And while he knows that these feelings exist deep within him, he also knows that they don’t extend past superficial romance. There isn’t any deeply rooted emotion in his physical and mental responses to the man, and there certainly isn’t any substance in the feelings. There isn’t any real _love_. And as long as he isn’t in love, Lovino is positive that with some time he’ll be able to take control of his feelings and crush the budding affection from blooming.

But that isn’t the fundamental problem here. The problem is that Lovino hadn’t counted on how difficult it would be to keep these feelings to himself. Keeping his mouth shut hadn’t ever been one of Lovino’s strong suits, and he constantly has to remind himself to hold his tongue whenever something almost started spilling out of him. It wouldn’t bode well for him if he let it slip out to the wrong person by accident.

Still, try as he might have, he hadn’t been able to keep it bottle up for very long. Secrets aren’t in his nature, and he’s bursting to tell someone. So he does. Lovino caves, and eventually he just lays it all out on the table and tells the one person he feels that he can actually trust: his brother. Who, incidentally, is Ludwig’s best friend, but Lovino doesn’t like to dwell on the negatives.

It goes as well as one might expect, After a few tense minutes of stuttering through the truth while he’s blushing and wringing his hands together, Lovino manages to come out with it and tell Feliciano the whole thing. Then he shuts his eyes and tries to think of a way to take it all back. It’s a moot point because his brother’s reaction is almost instantaneous. His joy is bright and hot, and so pure that it actually throws Lovino for a loop.

Feliciano is so excited with the news that he throws his arms around his older brother, clings to him tightly for a brief moment, and then tells him that ne needs to immediately announce to the world that his brother has a crush. Lovino had never reacted faster in his life. In a flurry of movement, as Feliciano moves to stand and make his way towards the door, Lovino launches himself at his brother without hesitation, arms hooking around Feliciano’s midsection as he tackles his younger brother to the floor.

“No!” The word is sucked out of him as if the oxygen in the room has suddenly depleted. “You aren’t allowed to breathe a word of this to anyone,” Lovino warns, breath coming out in quick, harsh pants. “You say anything to anyone and your life is on the line.”

Feliciano smacked his arms in an attempt to get his brother to release him, but Lovino can feel there’s no force behind the blow. What’s worse is he an see the wide smile splayed out across his brother’s features. He seems to be amused by it all, which is so much more infuriated than Lovino thought it would be.

“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” Feliciano yelps out, trying to hold back a laugh that would just end with Lovino tugging on his ear. “I won’t! I Please get off me, brother!”

There’s a pause as Lovino regards his brother suspiciously, and then he relents and lets go of Feliciano’s torso, allowing the boy to wriggle out of his arms and sit up on the floor. Lovino follow his example a moment later, pushing himself up off the floor and into a sitting position, still squinting at his brother just in case he decides to make a run for it.

Feliciano seems content to stay where he is, staring at his brother with an all too obvious amusement, so Lovino gives up and buries his face in his hands, silently praying that his younger brother would just let them sit there in silence so he could compose himself. And Feliciano did just that, if only for a moment. Then he giggled and crushes all of Lovino’s hope in an instant.

“So you like Ludwig, huh?” He sounds slightly smug about it, as if he had seen this coming when Lovino highly doubts that. He himself hadn’t even seen this coming from miles away.

(It’s perfectly acceptable to lie to yourself, in Lovino’s opinion.)

Lovino flushes at the question. “Shut up,” he hisses, voice muffled by his hands still pressing against his face. “Shut up or I’ll kill you.”

“But brother,” Feliciano whines, lips jutting outward in an overly exaggerated pout. “I think that it’s cute, and there is nothing wrong with you liking someone! A little love is good for the soul, brother.”

“Maybe to you none of this seems like a big deal, but to me this is a disaster,” Lovino snaps back, hand moving away from his face. There’s no point in hiding the fact that he’s as red as a tomato.

“I really don’t think that this is as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Feliciano says, leaning forward into his brother’s personal space, palms splayed out on the ground of their shared apartment. “Trust me, things will turn out for the best. I know they will!”

By best, Lovino thinks bitterly, he hopes that his brother means that any traces of romantic feelings towards Ludwig Beilschmidt on Lovino’s part would be completely eradicated; but he strongly doubted that things would go in his favor. They hardly ever do. Ignoring the bile taste in the back of his throat, Lovino glances up at his brother, trying to find the words that would dash that hopeful grin off his face. “Yeah? Is that what you think?” He means for it to come out sounding snide and rude, but it doesn’t. Quite the opposite, actually.

His heart hammers against his chest, and Feliciano’s unfaltering smile makes every bit of him ache. His brother had always been the optimistic balance to his never ending pessimism. That had always come back to bite him in the ass, and it probably would do the same again.

Serves him right for falling for the wrong person again. He just hopes that this time won’t end like the last, because Lovino couldn’t handle another heartbreak at the hands of his brother’s bright soul. Not again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not beta read at all. Feel free to point out errors.

**New Year’s Eve**

 

 **Date** : December 31  
**Time** : 22:13 (10:13 pm)

In an ironic twist of fate, Ludwig ended up being the complete opposite of his older and often immature brother. That being said, it’s a given that while Gilbert is always ecstatic at the prospect of a party and a night of wild drinking, Ludwig is decidedly less so. The mess that is the aftermath of a party is one of the main reasons for his distaste in them, and right now this particular party is looking to quickly turn into a disgusting mess. Ludwig would snap at the mere sight of speck in his clean, bacteria-free bedroom, and so this… _this_ is getting to be a bit much.

At the very least he knows that cleaning will not be his responsibility, as this is not his house. No, that terrible privilege befalls on Alfred, fortunately for the German.

Ludwig sighs in frustration at the scene unfolding around him, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose and trying to calm his nerves. But it’s a moot point. The party is in full swing, and not even the provided commodities are enough to keep Ludwig from having a hernia because of everyone’s antics. For the past hour he’s been hunkered down on a spot on one of the couches, clutching a beer in one hand while he attempts to assess situations in case they need defusing. Someone is bound to say the wrong thing tonight and end up with a fist in their mouth, and Ludwig would very much like to stop that from happening. Or, at the very least, keep the situation contained to prevent anyone else from getting hurt.

However, because he’s been keeping his keen eyes trained on the scene, Ludwig has seen quite a few things he’s sure that he’d rather not. While nervously watching and awaiting the collapse of the final wall, Ludwig has seen his friends making absolute fools of themselves.

His brother (and Ludwig has been very careful to keep track of his brother’s every movements) has been dancing on the table for well over half an hour, drenched from head to toe in what Ludwig can only assume is sweat and alcohol. He says alcohol because he’s pretty sure he saw Antonio spill a pint of some type of drink over Gilbert’s head not that long ago. At the very least Matthew seems to be keeping an eye on him, and he isn’t one for drinking, so he hopes his brother will be fine without him babysitting him.

Then, a little off to the left is Arthur, who is twitching in a manner that might be described as terrible dancing. The tie that he’d arrived with is no longer around his neck, but is now tightly tied around his forehead. He’s obviously drunk. That, or the tie is cutting off blood circulation to his brain and making him act like a complete fool. Either way, he was currently dancing ― if it could be called that ― with Francis, which is more than enough to convince Ludwig that he’s not thinking straight. Arthur would never willingly dance with Francis when sober. If fact, if he was sober, Arthur would probably be attempting to physically fight the Frenchman right this second.

As luck would have it, Arthur cannot hold his liquor, and Francis seems content to bob his head to the music rather than put the moves on the drunk Brit. It seems like neither of them will remember this the next day anyway. Little blessings, Ludwig supposes.

“Ludwig!”

Ludwig blinks at the sound of his name being called and glances towards the hallway, only to see Feliciano fighting his way through the crowd and waving an arm in his direction. He looks frantic, and a bit on edge, like something is making him nervous. So Ludwig stands and meets his friend half way, weaving through the crowd so Feliciano won’t have to struggle against the throng of people.

(Seriously, just how many of these people does Alfred actually know?)

“Have you seen Lovi around?” Feliciano gets straight to the point, and now Ludwig sees what has his so worked up. “Antonio and I have been trying to find him for almost an hour now but we haven’t had any luck.”

“Well I’m afraid I haven’t seen your brother around,” Ludwig says, and Feliciano’s face falls. He truly hasn’t caught a glimpse of the loud-mouthed Italian all night. In fact, Ludwig hadn’t even been aware that he _was_ here. “Would you like to to assist you in finding him?”

Feliciano’s face lights up with relief and… something else that Ludwig can’t quite place. “Will you really? Thank you so much, Ludwig. I’ll go find Tony and tell him the good news!” With a pat on the shoulder Feliciano is off to find Antonio, who is also lost somewhere in the crowd.

Ludwig heaves out a sigh, downs the rest of his drink, and then goes off to try and do what he promised Feliciano. He scans the crowd hoping to find the familiar chocolate brown locks, but instead he sees Alfred’s head bobbing in the crowd, dancing to the loud music. Well, Ludwig thinks, that’s as good a place to start looking as any. After all, this is Alfred’s home, and he knows where every single room is.

Maneuvering through the crowd is simple enough, as Ludwig is a rather large man to begin with and the people tend to part for him to pass anyway. Alfred notices him approaching and stops his aggressive swaying in order to look at him curiously.

“Hey bud, did you want something?” Alfred asks, still smiling but looking somewhat confused. “We still have plenty of beer if that’s what you’re looking for. It’s in the cooler outside.”

“No, thank you, I am fine,” Ludwig says, shaking his head. “I apologize for intruding on your… dancing, but I’m afraid that Feliciano has been unable to find his brother for the past hour, even with Antonio’s help. I was wondering if you perhaps saw him or know where he might be.”

Alfred taps his chin as he considered Ludwig’s inquiry. A light bulb goes off in his mind and he smiles brightly. “Actually, yeah!  I saw him walk by like a while ago muttering about wanting to be alone so I mentioned that I locked up my room ― I do _not_ want anyone doing the nasty where I sleep, you know? ― and how I have a sweet balcony there. Gave him the key and everything. Dunno if he’s still there though, that was a _long_ time ago.”

Perfect.

“Which way is the room?” Ludwig asks, glancing off into the hallway where he assumes he’ll be heading in a moment.

Alfred bounces on the heels of his feet and points directly at the hallway Ludwig is looking at. “Down this hallway, second door on the right. It locks from the inside too so you might have to knock. You might have to wait a while it’s kind of hard to hear someone knocking on the door from the balcony.”

“Thank you, Alfred,” Ludwig says with a nod and starts heading in the direction of the hallway.

“Oh, and hey,” Alfred calls out to his retreating figure. “Try to loosen up! This is a party, after all!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Ludwig mumbles, but it is lost in the cacophony of sounds.

The hallway is much more empty than the rest of the apartment. There’s a couple of people lined up against the wall, talking and laughing, but for the most part there is a clear path for those who want to walk past them for one reason or another. He sees Elizabeta in a heated discussion Vladimir, who seems very amused at getting her riled up. Next to them is Roderich, looking completely disgruntled at the arguing pair. He nods at Ludwig as he passes, and Ludwig looks at him with sympathy for a moment and Elizabeta reaches out to tug on Vladimir’s hair harshly and yell in his ear about something.

When he reaches the second door in the hallway, he realizes he might not have needed directions to Alfred’s room, because the American announced its location to everyone, courtesy of a very brazen sign that reads “Alfred F. Jones’ Room!” in red, white, and blue. Ludwig cringes at the sign and then reaches for the door handle before remembering Alfred telling him that Lovino ― should he still be in the room ― might have locked it.

So he knocks. Quite loudly. He waits for a moment and when no one comes to answer the door, he tries the door handle. It’s miraculously unlocked. Ludwig turns the handle and ventures into the dark room. It’s empty and cold. The bed hasn’t been touched all day by the looks of it, and as Ludwig’s eyes glance across the bedroom, he finally sees the door to the balcony Alfred had been talking about.

And there, through the glass, sitting in a collapsible lawn chair, is Lovino. He’s looking up at the barely-there stars. Ludwig breathes a sigh of relief that the manhunt is over, and doesn’t stop to think about the fact that Lovino actually hates him before he’s waltzing over to the doorway and pulling the glass sliding door open.

Lovino doesn’t jump at the sudden movement, but he does sigh and lets his shoulders drop. “I’m out here because I wanted to be left alone. Get the hell out―” Lovino stops when he sees who interrupted him. “Oh. It’s you. My point still stands. I want to be left alone, so get out of here.”

“Your brother has been looking all over for you,” Ludwig says, stepping out completely onto the balcony. The cold air nips at his exposed skin. He wonders why the hell the fiery Italian has braved the cool December weather in nothing but what seems to be a thin t-shirt, a leather jacket, and designer jeans.

“Maybe he should mind his own damn business,” Lovino grumbled under his breath, and then glances down at the thin t-shirt that Ludwig is wearing. “You’re going to freeze your ass off if you don’t get inside.”

“I could say the same to you,” Ludwig says as he leans against the balcony and looks down at the passing cars on the road.

“I came prepared,” Lovino replies snidely, lifting his arms as if to show off the fact that he has a leather jacket on. As if that does much to prevent the cold from reaching his bones. The tip of Lovino’s nose is red.

“I highly doubt that,” Ludwig says, getting comfortable. He can see why Lovino chose to escape from the party here. It’s quiet, and not a soul is bothering him. Hell, Ludwig himself might be tempted to just stay here for the remainder of the night.

“Look, whatever,” Lovino says, standing and stretching his arms over his head. “I’m going back inside to deal with my idiot brother. I only came out here to get away from your potato loving ass, so there’s no reason for me to be out here anymore. You feel free to stay out here and freeze, though.”

“Yes, I think I will stay out here for a while. It’s quiet,” Ludwig says, ignoring the way that Lovino squints his eyes at him. “If you are going back inside, at least make sure to tell your brother or Antonio that you are back. They were looking for you.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll tell them,” Lovino says, stomping over to the balcony door. However, he surprises the German by pausing at the entrance to the room and turning back to look at him rather than just leaving without another word. “Are you really going to stay out here?”

“Yes, I believe I just said as much,” Ludwig says, raising a brow at Lovino. “It is quiet and solitary.”

Ludwig turns back around to look out at the sky, and everything is quiet for a brief moment. For a minute he actually thinks that Lovino wordlessly slipped back to the party, but that doesn’t seem to be the case when the German hears rustling behind him.

_What is he doing?_

As soon as that thought passes through Ludwig’s mind and he turns to look at the Italian, Lovino’s leather jacket hits his chest and drops to the ground soundlessly.

When he glances back up, through the darkness of the night sky he can see that Lovino’s face is burning red. “If you’re going to be standing around out here in the middle of winter, you might at well bundle up. I don’t want to hear my brother whining about how you died from hypothermia for the rest of my life.”

It’s a cool low sixties fahrenheit in California tonight, hardly cold enough to die from a couple of minutes from exposure, but Ludwig bends down to pick up the jacket all the same. Lovino seems to take that opportunity of momentary distraction to scutter away. By the time Ludwig is extended to his full height, Lovino is shutting the door to the room and he’s gone.

Ludwig stares down at the jacket in confusion for a second before pulling it on. The sleeves are too short, and it’s more than a little snug against his biceps, but it’s warm; it’s an olive branch Ludwig had never expected to receive from Lovino.

Taking the seat that Lovino recently vacated, Ludwig breathes out a puff of air and enjoys the first chance of quiet he’s gotten all night.

* * *

 **Date** : December 31  
**Time** : 23:04 (11:04 pm)

After Feliciano is assured that Lovino is not off dead in a ditch somewhere (his brother had spotted him from across the crowd and flipped him off before disappearing in the throng of people, but that was good enough for Feliciano), Antonio convinces him into taking some shots together. It is admittedly an extremely terrible idea especially since Feliciano can’t seem to find Ludwig anyway, but he goes along with it anyway. Ludwig is most of Feliciano’s impulse control, and to top is all off, he isn’t really worried about Ludwig being lost as he was about Lovino. After all, Ludwig is responsible!

Feliciano is perhaps less so, because a few shots in he finds himself feeling as though he might vomit. Although is is faring much better than Antonio, who has unfortunately begun to puke up all of the alcohol he just consumed into Alfred’s potted plant.

Fighting through the nausea, Feliciano rubs Antonio’s back helpfully while the man empties the contents of his stomach. It’s the least he can do.

“Feliciano.”

He glances up to see Ludwig suddenly standing next to him, looking at Antonio with absolute disgust. The spaniard doesn’t notice and heaves again. Feliciano winces at the sound that is so loud he can hear it even through the music playing in the other room. “Oh, Ludwig! Glad to see you.”

Ludwig is still grimacing at Antonio when Feliciano responds, but eventually looks away, face sill pinched as though he ate something sour. “I was wondering if you could perhaps give this to your brother when you see him again. I intended to, however I haven’t been able to find him,” Ludwig says, trailing off slightly.

Feliciano blinks and then glances down at what Ludwig is holding in his hands, only to find that he’s clutching Lovino’s favorite leather jacket. A smile lurks at the corner of his mouth, threatening to bloom. His brother is so predictable. Even when he’s not being an over the top romantic, he’s still being romantic. Yet Ludwig seems to be completely clueless to the overtones of the situation.

“What’s that?” Feliciano asks, feigning obliviousness. He just wants to hear Ludwig say it.

“It’s Lovino’s jacket,” Ludwig says, sounding a bit uncomfortable. “He let me borrow it while I was outside trying to get away from all of the noise. I don’t need it anymore, though, so I thought I should give it back.”

Feliciano hums and smiles, and Ludwig finally catches onto the fact that the Italian is amused for some reason. “What?” he asks stiffly. “Is something the matter?”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Feliciano says, waving him off. “Just surprised that my brother was being so generous. Thank you for the jacket, I’ll be sure to give it to him when I see him.”

“I am never drinking again,” Antonio says, resting his head on a patch of dirt that is luckily vomit free.

Feliciano takes the jacket from Ludwig, tosses it over his shoulder, and then turns back to help Antonio onto his feet. Ludwig hesitates for a moment, hoping that Antonio doesn’t accidentally get puke all over the jacket. It really is a nice leather jacket, and he would be sad if it was ruined. That, and Lovino would undoubtedly blame him for his clothing being ruined despite the fact that it wasn’t his fault.

“I’m going to go look for my brother,” Ludwig says, though he knows Feliciano is only half listening. “I seriously doubt he hasn’t broken anything by now.”

He leaves without a word, stalking off in the direction of the music. Gilbert wouldn’t stray far from where the epicenter of the party: the dance floor. Alfred had shoved all of his furniture off to the side or carried it out of the room in order to clear up basically the entire living room so that people could dance there if they wanted to. And they certainly were taking advantage of that opportunity. Ludwig is being shoved in every direction as he attempts to scan the crowd for any sign of his brother. When he’s about to give up and just go look elsewhere, the music cuts off, and he quickly locates his brother as he starts yelling into a microphone.

“My name is Gilbert Beilschmidt and I am going to sing to you all a song,” Gilbert slurs from where he stands on top of a coffee table. Ludwig groans, but for some reason, the crowd goes wild with the idea of his brother belting out a song in what will most certainly be off key.

Ludwig doesn’t get an opportunity to cut his brother off for the entirety of the song, and is forced to endure the terrible singing that no one else seems to be bothered by in the slightest. Then, even after Gilbert finishes his tragic rendition, he spots Ludwig in the crowd and calls him out before his brother can force him off the table and somewhere more private.

“Brother,” Gilbert yells, and Ludwig grimaces at the booming noise. “I want to dedicate that song to my brother Lud… Lud something. Anyway Lud, I wanna tell you that I am way to wasted to drive―” this gets another cheer from the crowd for some reason― “so we’re spending the night! Sound awesome?”

Without waiting for an answer, Gilbert jumps of the stage and disappears in the throng of people. Ludwig’s head aches from everyone’s antics. For once he would like to sleep and awaken in his own bed, alone. More often than not his brother would drag him to these parties, or to be in the company of all of his friends, and Ludwig would end up sleeping in someone else’s bed. Then he would wake up to find someone else sleeping next to him. Be it Gilbert, Feliciano, Kiku, or even Roderich, that one time. Ludwig doesn’t like to think about that extremely awkward morning.

In any case, he really would prefer to stay in a much neater home should it come down to it. As it is, he doesn’t he’ll have much of a choice in the matter. Ludwig sighs in resignation, and then goes off to find another drink. Preferably something with alcohol. He cannot, after all, be the only sober person in this party. It’s extremely taxing on his mood.

* * *

 **Date** : December 31  
**Time** : 23:54 (11:54 pm)

Feliciano ducks right past the dance floor and makes a beeline for his older brother who is leaning against the wall and nursing a drink in his hand. His face is twisted in a way that makes his annoyance obvious ― but then, his face looks like that a great deal of the time.

“Lovi! Lovi!” Lovino to the direction of his name being called, and his eyes squint at the sight of his younger brother making his way towards him. Then his eyes drift down to the jacket in Feliciano’s hand; and, try as he might to prevent it, Lovino’s face flushes a little.

“What do you want, _idiota_?” Lovino asks, shifting away from his brother’s knowing grin.

Feliciano holds out the jacket under Lovino’s nose. “Here’s your jacket. Ludwig told me to give it to you when I found you,” Feliciano says, grin only growing as Lovino’s cheeks flush pink.

He rips the jacket from his brother’s hands and holds it against his chest. “Shut up. You didn’t say anything to him about me, did you? Because if you did I swear I’ll―”

“I didn’t,” Feliciano promises, raising his hands in front of him. “I promise I didn’t say a word!”

“You better not have. I don’t want the bastard finding out that I… well, you know,” Lovino mumbles, face as hot as a firework. “I want to keep this as quiet as possible, just until I get rid of this stupid crush.”

“Don’t worry brother, your secret is super safe with me,” Feliciano chirps brightly. “I won’t tell anyone unless you want me to.”

“And I don’t,” Lovino says with a scoff. “And I never will. If trusting you was a mistake, I’ll kick your little ass. Don’t think that I won’t.”

Feliciano doesn’t respond to him, and Lovino takes the moment of peace to tug his jacket back on. Even though he doubts that the German wore the jacket for a very long time, he almost swears that he can smell him on the leather. His heart pounds in his chest, and enjoys the quiet moment. Well, as quiet as it can be when there’s eardrum shattering music blasting through the entire home.

Someone calls out that it’s almost time for the countdown, people start making their way into the overstuffed living room and huddling around Alfred’s huge television. Lovino takes that moment to slip out of the room so he doesn’t end up being suffocated by the crowd, but Feliciano follows him.

“It’s almost midnight,” Feliciano says, effectively ending the momentary peace. “Don’t you want to celebrate with your friends?”

“Hell no,” Lovino answers, crossing his arms across his chest. “I’ll get crushed by all those disgusting, sweaty people.”

“But Lovino, it’ll be fun! Come on.” Feliciano grips his brother’s arm, and despite Lovino’s initial protest, he allows himself to be dragged back into the room of people all excitedly looking at the television as the announcer gets ready to start the countdown.

The music is cut off so that everyone can hear the woman on the television as she says, “We are just moments away from a new year. Hopefully it will be just as wonderful for all of you watching at home.”

The crowd breaks out in cheers, and Lovino finds himself being shoved to the back by the drunk crowd. He doesn’t particularly mind being in the back. There’s far less people and he isn’t being pushed and shoved much.

“Here it comes,” the lady on the television says. “Ten!”

“Nine!” It’s as if everyone in the damn room is counting down.

“Eight!” Lovino throws caution to the wind and joins in on the countdown.

“Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”

The Italian allows himself to smile at the celebration for once. Feliciano emerges from the crowd to give his brother a hug before running off to find other people to congratulate. People are laughing, kissing, and holding each other happily.

Lovino glances to his left to see if he can find someone he knows, and his eyes land on Ludwig, who is standing only a little ways away. Olive eyes meet icy blues and Lovino, despite himself, gives Ludwig a bright smile.

* * *

 **Date** : January 1  
**Time** : 9:47 (am)

There’s a moment of confusion as Lovino’s eyes flutter open and he realizes that he isn’t in his bedroom, or even a bedroom he is familiar with in any capacity. Then his memory starts returning, and he groans at the memory of the end of the party and tries to get up. Key word being tries. Someone has their arms wrapped around his torso and are snoring to their heart’s content. Upon further inspection he realizes this person is in fact his brother.

A well places smack to the head gets his brother to release him and jump up in the bed they were sharing. “Ouch! Who did that?” Feliciano yelps, rubbing the top of his head. His eyes meet Lovino’s and he blinks the sleepiness away. “Lovi?”

“Good morning to you too,” Lovino replies stiffly, sitting up on the bed. “Mind learning not to cling onto me while you sleep? Thanks.”

“Sorry,” Feliciano says, looking not at all like he is sorry. He looks around the room and scratches his head. “Where are we?”

“That bastard Alfred’s house. We crashed here after the party ended,” Lovino says, standing up. His body aches, but luckily he isn’t dealing with much of a headache right now. “Now let’s go downstairs. I’m starving and I smell food.”

It’s as if a switch is his in Feliciano’s head. He sniffs the air curiously and then he’s up and off like a rocket. “I smell pancakes!”

“Wait up, dumb ass,” Lovino calls out to him, chasing his brother out of the hallway and down the stairs. He’s not sure if Feliciano even knows where he’s going ― hell, Lovino isn’t sure where he’s going.

Miraculously they make it down the stairs and Feliciano’s nose successfully navigates them through the house and to the kitchen where a few people were surrounding a big plate of pancakes like a pack of wolves would a prey.

Ludwig and Matthew ― Alfred’s brother ― are busy at work making pancakes at a breakneck speed, while everyone else is busy eating said pancakes just as fast as they are being produced. Everyone except for Arthur, who is forgoing any sort of niceties and is sitting on the counter top, nursing what is obviously a wicked hangover.

Gilbert, Francis, Antonio, and Alfred do not even bother to look up at the appearance of the brothers, too preoccupied with their own food to notice anything else.

“Hey! Save some for us, you bastards,” Lovino chides, making his way to the stack of pancakes, his brother happily skipping behind him.

“You’re fault for not getting here sooner,” Alfred responds, although his words are mostly incoherent thanks to the amount of food in his mouth. “Just grab a plate and dig in, there’s more than enough to go around.”

“Whatever,” Lovino says with a roll of his eyes. He grabs a foam plate from the stack on the edge of the counter, careful to avoid Arthur as he groans to himself, and gets himself his own stack of pancakes.

“There are so good,” Gilbert calls out, voice also muffled by the food in his mouth. “It’s like my entire life has changed because of these things. Thanks, Mattie.”

Matthew blushes and stutters out a thank you before busying himself with cooking once more. God, it’s like he can’t even get a sentence out to anybody that isn’t Alfred or Francis. Why he’s a stuttering mess all the time is beyond Lovino. Not that it matter right now. All that matter are how good the kid’s pancakes are.

“He learned from the best,” Francis purrs, waving a piece of pancake on his fork for emphasis.

“Yeah, from me,” Alfred snorts.

As Lovino sits in one of the empty seats, Arthur hisses, “Will you all just shut up, please? Can you be any louder? My headache is bad enough as it it, I really do not need you bloody wankers making it any worse.”

“We’ll try our best,” Antonio says, a faux smile spreading across his lips. Arthur just silently scowls at him. Why Arthur and Antonio never truly get along, Lovino will never understand. As long as they’re both content to pretend to stand each other and a fight doesn’t break out, he doubts he even cares much. Still, he doesn’t want to hear mindless babbling either, so he says, “Will you too both just shut the fuck up?”

“Lovi, that isn’t very nice.” Antonio pouts at him, and Lovino only stares blankly. It’s a testament to how much he’s grown in the coming years.

“Does it look like I give a shit?” Lovino asks, and reaches for the maple syrup.

“Lovino, would you please mind your language?” Ludwig asks from his spot in front of the stove, not even turning around to look at the Italian.

Somehow ― and Lovino isn’t quite sure how he manages it ― his face doesn’t burst into flames from how hot it becomes, and he manages to shoot out a decent response. “Was I talking to you? No. So why don’t you mind your own damn business?”

He can see Ludwig shake his head, and then turn to look at him with mirth in his eyes. It strikes Lovino then that Ludwig hadn’t bothered to slick back his head yet, and the blond locks fall over his forehead and lay just above his eyebrows. It’s cute.

“You just never listen, do you?” Ludwig asks, but he doesn’t sound exasperated at all. If anything, he sounds amused.

Lovino clenches his jaw and looks at the German. Really looks at him. And there it is, a small smile. Barely even noticeable, but still there nonetheless. Lovino sticks his tongue out and looks away, hoping that the pancakes can distract him from his heart thumping away in his chest. He doesn’t even notice that Ludwig stares at him for a moment more, smile growing just a bit; just enough for Feliciano to notice and smile to himself.

As it turns out, Gilbert is right. The pancakes are delicious.


End file.
